Page 6 of My Lumberjack Valentine

He smiles slightly beneath his beard, his giant palm enveloping mine in a lingering handshake. My skin burns at the contact, and I meet Boone’s gaze, the coffee shop melting away around us. This sexy older lumberjack is now my fake boyfriend, and all we have to do is convince his grandpa that our relationship is real.

How hard could it be?

4

BOONE

When Rosalieand I leave the coffee shop that night, we arrange to meet up at my cabin tomorrow. Grandpa will be arriving after lunch, and we need time to get our story straight. There’s so much I don’t know about Rosalie, and if we’re going to convince Grandpa we’re a couple, we need to learn more about each other before the old man comes over.

Back at my cabin, I don’t get much sleep. Rosalie is all I can think about—her pretty face, her chocolate brown eyes, her pale pink hair. And those curves…goddammit, how am I meant to get any sleep with those curves on my mind?

When I told Rosalie about my proposition, I never imagined she’d say yes. I didn’t plan any of it. It wasn’t until she told me about her situation that the idea occurred to me, and I assumed she’d call me crazy and walk right out. But it turns out Rosalie is full of surprises. She didn’t take much convincing, and I’m relieved as hell that she’s willing to go through with this. Not just for my inheritance or her candy store—but because I want to spend more time with her. I want to get to know this pretty little angel, and now I have the perfect opportunity.

Fuck, why do I care so much?

She’s a stranger…this is all fake…just a means to an end…

But the next morning, I still can’t get Rosalie off my mind, and when I finally hear a car trundling up the path toward my cabin, my heart pounds in anticipation. A few moments later, there’s a knock on the door, and I suck in a breath as I open it.

Shit, how did Rosalie get even more beautiful overnight?

“Good morning,” she says, smiling at me. Those plump pink lips are enough to make my cock stir, and I suppress a groan as my eyes roam her curves. She’s wearing blue jeans and a pretty white blouse, the outline of her bra just visible beneath the fabric. The way she fills out her clothes is sexy as hell. I could stare at her all day.

“Morning.” My voice is hoarse and croaky, and I clear my throat, standing back to let her in.

“Wow,” she says, looking around as I close the door behind us. “This place is beautiful.”

I follow her gaze, trying to see the cabin from her perspective. It’s big—too big for a single guy like me—with wooden walls and giant windows looking out over the Hope Peak mountains. A giant fireplace fills the living room, flames dancing in the hearth, along with rustic furniture and cozy couches. It’s a warm, comfortable home, but I’m only ever here to sleep these days. Most of the time, I’m out in the woods, losing myself in the quiet of the trees.

“Glad you like it,” I tell Rosalie, beckoning her to the large wooden table by the window. “You hungry? Want anything?”

“I bought us breakfast,” she says, grabbing a couple of pastries from a paper bag. “Perfect Brews make a mean pain au chocolat.”

It’s a sweet gesture, and I thank her, taking a flaky pastry.

“So, I guess I better tell you about myself?” she says hesitantly. “Just in case your grandpa asks…”

I nod. “Tell me everything. If we’re going to do this, we should do it right.”

“Agreed.” She sets down her pain au chocolat, looking thoughtful. “Honestly, there’s not much to tell. I’m twenty-two, an only child, born and raised in Seattle. My full name is Rosalie Mae Dawson. I moved to Hope Peak when I was eighteen and that’s when I opened Peak Sweets.” She stops talking for a moment, chewing her lip anxiously. “I don’t have a dad, and my mom…well, I’d rather not talk about it. If your grandpa asks, just say I don’t have any family.”

My stomach sinks at her words. I had no idea Rosalie was living in Hope Peak all by herself with no family around to support her.

“I’m sorry, Rosalie. That sounds tough.”

“It is what it is.” She shrugs, forcing a smile. “Anyway, those are the basics. Oh, and I like baking, scrapbooking, taking photographs. And don’t laugh, but I collect vintage candy wrappers. My favorite is my Hershey’s wrapper from 1904.” She smiles again, and it’s genuine this time. “I promise it’s cooler than it sounds.”

Dammit, why does she have to be so cute?

“Sounds pretty awesome to me. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Her eyes twinkle as she says, “I’d like that. What about you, Boone? What do I need to know?”

“Full name is Boone Mercer. Forty-two. Born and raised in Idaho, and moved to Hope Peak in my twenties. I’m a lumberjack by trade, trying to expand my lumber business. Spend most of my time out in the woods. Guess I’m what most people call a loner.”

Rosalie is listening intently, her eyes fixed on me. “Are there any previous relationships I should know about? Kids?”

“Nope. No kids. Never been in a relationship, either.”

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